She puckered her brows meditatively.
"I'm not going to church, but--"
She paused, thinking hard. Arthur waited.
An inspiration came to her. "Anyway, I have to go to the library to-
night. I've got some history references to look up."
Arthur brightened. The library appealed to him as a rendezvous more
than church, anyway. Oh, ye Public Libraries of all the Cherryvales
of the land! Winter-time haunt of young love, rivalling band-
concerts in the Public Square on summer evenings! What unscholastic
reminiscences might we not hear, could book-lined shelves in the
shadowy nooks, but speak!
"About what time will you be through at the Library?" asked Arthur,
still casual.
"Oh, about eight-thirty," said Missy, not pausing to reflect that
it's an inconsistent sore throat that can venture to the Library but
not to church.
"Well, maybe I'll be dropping along that way about that time,"
opined Arthur. "Maybe I'll see you there."
"That would be nice," said Missy, tingling.
She continued to tingle after he had jauntily departed with his
basket and clattered away in his delivery wagon.
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